Begin Again
by Maeve of Winter
Summary: Officially, the Justice League has shut down the team, but Donna, Jaime, and Gar are determined to ensure that it lives on.


The size and grandeur of Dayton Manor never failed to astound Jaime. During his time with the team, he had been amazed at the luxury of Wayne Manor, speechless at the glamour of the Royal Atlantean palace, and wonderstruck by the ancient halls of Themyscira.

But none of his previous astonishment could compare to the utter awe inspired by the sight of Dayton Manor, his current destination. Set far back from the private road leading toward it, the opulent white behemoth stood proudly on the immaculate grounds, a grand sight against the horizon. The lawns were perfectly manicured and the gardens elaborate, their intricate arrangement complementing the ornate embellishments of the building.

Gar had invited the entire team to his house several times; he lived there with his godfather, Steve Dayton. The man had become Gar's official legal guardian after his mother died, as M'gann was too busy with the team to serve in the traditional parental role. Immediately after gaining custody of Gar, Dayton had insisted Gar come and live with him in the manor, where Gar wanted for nothing, except perhaps for Dayton to lessen his extremely exacting academic standards.

The sheer beauty and enormity of the place never failed to astound Jaime, and now, as he touched down on the ground and shifted from Blue Beetle to regular teenager, he couldn't help but wonder why Gar had called him there. He hadn't seen or talked to Gar since the Justice League placed the team on temporary suspension over two weeks ago following debriefing from their mission in Bialya. The League had then disabled the team's comms, and Gar's cellphone went unanswered, its voicemail box full. Any attempts to call Gar at the mansion had resulted in being haughtily informed by one of the Dayton Manor staff that Gar was grounded and unable to come to the phone.

When Jaime had asked, Nightwing had reassured him that Gar was fine. Nevertheless, Jaime had been worried about his friend, who was seemingly cut off from all communication. And if there ever was a time when he thought Gar could use a friend, it was now, in the aftermath of their disastrous mission.

And if Jaime was completely honest with himself, he was eager to see one of his friends again, too. No one else from the team beyond Bart had contacted him, and he had needed to reach out to Nightwing to glean the information concerning Gar. After two weeks of near total silence, he himself was starting to become quite lonely.

Then again, Jaime realized, glancing around the magnificent grounds as he mounted the stairs leading up to one of the mansion's various patios, at least he still got to go to school and see his friends there. But Steve Dayton kept Gar bound to the estate, where he was privately tutored. Outside of his membership with the team, Gar had no direct contact with the outside world.

A flurry of movement startled Jaime from his thoughts, and he found Vernon Questor, Dayton's estate manager, standing before him at the top of the steps. As always, the man was dressed in an impeccable suit with cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. The sleek glasses he wore did nothing to hide the severity of his gaze.

"Master Reyes," he said, his tone cool and formal. "If you proceed through this doorway," he nodded to the open balcony doors "you'll find Master Logan awaiting you in the eastmost music room. Simply follow the first hallway on the right to the last door on the left."

"Oh, uh, thank you, Mr. Questor," Jaime replied self-consciously, hurrying away in the direction Questor had indicated. He couldn't but feel awkward and out of place in this grandiose mansion, as well as very aware of his torn jeans and scruffy sweatshirt.

The white lace curtains on either side of the doorway billowed in the breeze as he moved past them, finding himself in a foyer. Dozens of crystal chandeliers beamed down from the high, vaulted ceiling, reflecting onto the white stone floor as he located the correct corridor and continued down it until he could go no further. Standing in front sets of ornately carved double doors, he could hear faint piano music floating out of the room. For a moment, Jaime hesitated, wondering if he should knock, but then he reasoned Gar wouldn't be able to hear him over his playing, anyway.

Pulling open one of the doors, he found Gar sitting behind a grand piano, his fingers dancing over the keys and his eyes glued to his music book. Sunlight spilled in from the tall windows that composed almost entirely of the rooms' two outer walls. The light gleamed on Gar's red hair and illuminated his ivory complexion, softening the look of solemn concentration on his face.

He looked incredibly normal, Jaime realized. Sure, Gar was dressed like he was about to go and ride in a horse show: he wore a crisp white shirt, blue blazer, tight tan pants, and tall black boots. But now that Gar could shift his appearance as M'gann could, no one ever would have suspected he spent his free time fighting supervillains. Of course, Jaime supposed that was the point of shapeshifting. But still, he couldn't help but marvel at how well Gar's demeanor matched his surroundings, easily blending with the mansion's polished and sophisticated atmosphere.

Watching the scene before him, Jaime couldn't help but contrast Gar's elegance and poise with how he had looked at the conclusion of their last mission: kneeling down, clutching Queen Bee's body, his eyes wide with shock, and his face dripping with her blood.

The music ended, and Jaime sternly reminded himself to focus on the present as he walked forward to congratulate Gar.

"That was some fantastic piano playing," Jaime said admiringly.

"Thanks," Gar said with a smile. "Tchaikovsky's First. Personally, I think it's an overdone and overly sentimental piece. I prefer Rachmaninov."

Jaime nodded as if he had any idea who those people were, inwardly cringing at the reminder of his ignorance. He wasn't part of the rich or elite, and he certainly didn't sit around listening to classical piano music.

"But enough about me," Gar said hastily, sliding off the piano bench and rising to embrace Jaime. "I'm so glad to see you."

"You, too," Jaime said, slightly surprised at Gar's open affection, but nonetheless, he enthusiastically returned the hug. "How've you been? I've tried calling you, but I can never get you on the phone."

"I'm sorry about that," Gar apologized as he led Jaime from the room. "Here, let's go out to the upper veranda. I've arranged for some refreshments. We can eat as we talk."

He guided Jaime through what seemed like a maze of sparkling marble floors and white walls with gleaming golden accents, until they arrived at a sunny terrace, a different one from where Jaime had entered. A table with chairs was arranged near the edge, providing a striking view of a lake and forest in the distance, set just before the mountains. Another table off to the side hosted a magnificent spread of foodstuffs. There were pastries, sandwiches, tropical fruits, all sorts of fancy cheeses, and a bunch of different dishes Jaime couldn't name. He wasn't sure he had ever seen such a lavish array of food before, and even his amazement, he couldn't help but feel flattered that Gar had gone through the trouble of providing such a feast.

"Help yourself. And take as much as you like, there's plenty here." Gar gestured offhandedly at the food as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. He took it black, Jaime noted vaguely, momentarily tearing his attention away from the refreshments.

"Thanks. It all looks terrific," Jaime enthused as he loaded a plate with various desserts and sandwiches.

Gar stirred his table coffee, the spoon clinking on the delicate china of his teacup. "I didn't mean to make you a captive audience to a piano recital earlier. I just needed to practice. I've been grounded for letting my music grades slip because of being out completing missions with the team."

Jaime swallowed a mouthful of eclair. "S'okay. If your grades are slipping, I guess you're thinking it was just as well the Justice League suspended us, right?"

Gar stiffened at his words, and Jaime could have kicked himself for his tactlessness.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking—" he began, but Gar waved a hand dismissively.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I know I'm the reason the team was disbanded."

" 'Disbanded'?" Jaime repeated quizzically. "Gar, it's a temporary suspension. The team will be back in action before you know it."

"Jaime, the team is done," Gar said gently. "In our last mission, I, as an extension of the Justice League, caused the death of a critical political figure of an enemy nation."

"But Bialya had already disavowed Queen Bee," Jaime argued. "With that coup the their generals staged, she was no longer their ruler. She was already considered an enemy of the Bialyan state!"

"You're right. I was very lucky with the timing of my murder." A trace of bitterness seeped into Gar's voice. "But who's to say that we'd be so fortunate if it happened again? The next time a foreign politician died as a result of one our mission, everything—our country, the superhero community, and especially the Justice League and our team—would be endangered. We would be plunged into political turmoil. After what I did, it's too big of a risk. The League would be idiots to keep the program going."

Jaime opened his mouth, then shut it again as he processed what Gar was saying. He knew Gar was right—on most accounts, anyway. So he settled for countering the one statement of Gar's he did not and would never believe.

"You aren't a murderer," Jaime said firmly. "You reacted in self-defense. It wasn't your fault your full abilities surfaced when they did."

And it wasn't. The encounter with Queen Bee had been unexpected. The mission was supposed to have been purely recon, and the League's intelligence had reported that she was no longer present in the palace.

But the information Batman had supplied to them turned out to be wrong. Queen Bee was at the Bialyan Royal Palace, and they had encountered her, leading to her attempt to subdue them with her persuasive abilities. In reaction, and, most of the team suspected but never voiced aloud, repressed anger and grief for the murder of his mother, Gar's full-fledged Martian powers had surfaced at the worst possible moment. Queen Bee's efforts to psionically influence him resulted in a defensive psychic backlash from Gar that killed her instantly, albeit unintentionally.

"Noted." Gar's lips twisted upward in a humorless parody of his usually brilliant smile.

"You know, it's strange." Jaime frowned as a realization dawned on him. "The League usually plans for every possible event, every potential outcome. But why did they never think that you might get all of M'gann's abilities with that blood transfusion? I mean, they knew you already had some of her skills, so you'd think they might be on alert about you gaining her telepathy, too."

"Why, indeed." Gar sipped his coffee.

Jaime stared at him, his food forgotten on his plate. "You think they did that deliberately, don't you? You think the League knew about you getting M'gann's psychic powers and put you in that palace with Queen Bee knowing what might happen."

"I think a lot of things, few of them fully realized," Gar said calmly. "But I know that I don't like being used. Yes, I think it was a noteworthy oversight not to have anyone monitoring me regarding the emergence of full Martian capabilities. Combine that with the 'faulty' info we were given about Queen Bee, and I think there are too many oversights for either of them to be entirely accidental. Add in the 'suggestion' the League gave to me regarding me being a trainee member as part of a mentorship program, and not only do I think someone's pulling my strings, but also that they're salivating over the opportunity to do it some more."

"You were offered a spot in the League?" A pang of envy struck Jaime.

"Not membership ," Gar corrected. "Some B.S. junior position. They made it clear to me I wouldn't have any kind of say in the League's activities. All this offer means is that they want to keep an eye on me now that they know everything I can do. I remained polite throughout the entire communication, but honestly, I really just wanted to tell them where to go."

"Seems like too little, too late," Jaime commented. "I mean, kudos to you for being offered any kind of membership in the League, even if you're not being given equal rank. But wouldn't it have been great if they could prevented the, um—" Glancing at Gar, Jaime found himself struggling to locate a suitable word "—the outcome of our mission in Bialya?"

"My thoughts exactly," Gar agreed. "But it was the last confirmation I needed that the League definitely won't be reviving our team. If they planned to, they wouldn't have needed to extend their 'valuable mentee opportunity' to me. So, it got me thinking: what if we ditched the Justice League and just started a personal team? One that we planned, whose membership we controlled?"

Jaime reeled back in surprise. "You just want us to strike off on our own? With no supervision?"

Gar shrugged. "Like I said, the League is looking less and less trustworthy to me. But I trust you, Jaime. You're well-grounded. You're guided by your conscience. You have a code of morals that you stick to and never stray from. And if I'm going to have a team, I need someone like that. Especially . . ." Gar's voice trailed off, and he sighed. "Especially given what's now my history."

"Hey." Jaime leaned forward and gripped Gar's shoulder. "Don't worry about that. What happened with Queen Bee was an accident. I know you would never set out to kill anyone."

Gar gave him a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Jaime."

"And I'm in," Jaime added. "As long as Bart can be a part of the team, too."

"I figured Bart would be your stipulation," Gar remarked. "Don't worry. I wasn't planning on inviting either of you two without bringing the other along."

Jaime eyed Gar speculatively. "Okay, so if you've got everything figured out, tell me this: how are you planning on paying for everything our team will need? Gear, tech, transportation?"

"I've got everything under control," Gar informed him smoothly. "Not that I'll ever convince Steve, but I've paid attention to my business classes. Steve's encouraged me to take a look through the finances of Dayton Industries, and I have. In fact, I've found more than enough areas to provide us with sufficient funds to solve our cash flow problem without anyone noticing."

"Isn't that stealing?" Jaime asked dubiously.

"Nope. I checked, and with the right paperwork, Dayton Industries will be able claim all of our expenses as tax writeoffs," Gar reassured him. "Beyond that, I've found us a secret base. It's perfect for covert operations."

"Hmm." Jaime took a moment to absorb the information, and then shrugged, unable to find any major flaws with the logic at the moment. "Who are you planning on getting to lead the team? Nightwing?"

"No," Gar said flatly. "If we're going to be operating in secret, we need to be selective about our membership. The whole point of this new team is to have the freedom we didn't have while working under the League. We're not going to get that freedom if we throw in with the Bats."

Jaime looked at him in surprise. "You don't want to bring any of them to our team?"

"Please." Gar rolled his eyes. "Daddy issues are the Bats' biggest weakness. Any one of them would immediately run and dime us out to Batman without thinking twice if they thought it would get them an extra half second of his attention."

"Who did you have in mind to be team leader, then?" Jaime challenged.

Raising a hand, Gar shaded his eyes and glanced up at the sky. "See for yourself. She's right on time."

Looking up at the sky, Jaime barely glimpsed a young woman in battle armor hurtling through the air toward their location before she was suddenly standing before them.

"Hey, Jaime, Gar," she greeted them. "I hope I'm not late."

"Donna!" Jaime exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace his former teammate. "It's good to see you!"

"You, too," she replied with a smile.

"You've got a new costume," Jaime observed. Gone was her red jumpsuit; in its place was black armor that glittered like stars in the night sky, with a pteruges at her waist. The golden plates she wore at her shoulders, elbows, and knees matched her tall gold boots. "And a new hairstyle." The long dark hair she had previously worn pulled back in a ponytail was now cropped short, feathering gently over her ears. "Does this mean we're in for an all-new Wonder Girl?"

"Yes and no." Donna leaned back against the railing and looked to Gar. "I'm ready to lead. But I don't go by Wonder Girl anymore. My name now is Troia."

"Why the change?" Jaime asked curiously.

"I've switched pantheons," Donna said with a shrug. "The gods of Olympus are no longer relevant to me."

Jaime's eyebrows shot up. "Didn't the gods give you your powers to start with?"

"Not quite," Donna answered evasively. "And even if they had, the Greeks don't hold any significance in my life at this point."

"So who do you follow now?" Jaime persisted.

Donna smiled. She picked up a glass from the refreshment table, filling it with water from the crystal decanter, before raising it in a toast. "Long live the Titans."

Likewise, Gar lifted his coffee cup, clinking it against Donna's glass, and, as Jaime watched, they both drank to Donna's declaration.


End file.
